At first I’d thought it was a joke. Had to be. Any second, someone would pop out holding Robert, laughing, and then I would snap that person’s neck. But I’d been all alone.

Then I’d found myself in the parking lot. I’d run down the stairs and out the back door, heedless. I’d spun in a circle, seeking a swirl of dark dress, the flash of sun on silvery gray hair. She was old, and the infant carrier was heavy; she could not have been moving fast. But she’d been nowhere in sight.

I’d known, hadn’t I? From the moment I’d seen her peering in my bedroom window. I’d thought she was an omen. I’d hoped she was a dream. But she was real.

My logical brain kept saying I could not know that it was this specific woman who had taken my baby. Not for certain. The witch peering in my window still could have been a nightmare. The little old lady on the street could have been someone’s nice nana, running errands.

But I did not believe it. I almost didn’t want to believe it, because then anyone could have Robert. Any kind of monster.

GO HOME, her note said. Was she going to meet me? Was Robert with her? I was on the fastest route, speeding down a narrow road through a neighborhood, the street tightly lined with Craftsman bungalows. Most of the houses had pop tops and additions, making them too large for their lots. They loomed over me, crowding close, as if the world itself were squeezing in on me. I caught up to a slow-moving Lexus and braked. I wanted to peel into the bike lane and go around it, running up on the curb, tearing up the manicured grass.

I couldn’t risk being pulled over by the police, though. I had to be home by five-fifteen.

I met my own eyes in the rearview, and I was shocked to see that I’d been crying. Black mascara streaked down my face. My breasts ached and pulsed like they were heavy with milk, the way they had when the girls were little and I went too long without nursing. It was a phantom pain, because Robert was a bottle baby. He’d been three weeks early, and his suck reflex had been poor. Nursing had burned up more calories than he was getting, so I’d had to supplement. My lazy baby liked the bottle so much better. He started fussing and turning away when I offered my breast. It hurt my feelings, trying to get him to latch while he struggled and squalled. When I offered a bottle, he snuggled close and smacked and cooed.